Whumptober 2019 - 09 - Shackled
by DinerGuy
Summary: 2018 reboot. Carjacked, handcuffed to the wheel, now left in the wreckage of a hit-and-run... Today was just not Katsumoto's day.


_A/N: I'm so glad my bunnies finally let me write a story for Katsumoto; he needs more love... even if it's the whumpy sort 0:)_

_Standard disclaimers apply._

* * *

"Just… wait for me. And don't do touch anything until I get there."

_"I wouldn't dream of it."_

Katsumoto had sighed as he'd tucked his cell phone back in his pocket. Even as he'd said the words, he hadn't had much confidence that Magnum had actually meant what he'd said. In the detective's experience, the other man was never short of really bad ideas.

The P.I. had started working a case that had crossed over into HPD territory when the woman he'd been hired to find had turned out to be a witness in a murder investigation. So then, because Katsumoto had the luck to be the detective working said murder investigation, he'd found himself having to work alongside Magnum—yet again.

The phone call with Magnum that morning had been a result of Magnum and Higgins having tracked down the missing woman's car, which was abandoned on the side of a deserted road. The detective had just hoped they'd had the good sense _not _to go poking around in the car, disturbing evidence.

He'd climbed into the driver's seat and had heard his phone chime with a text message. Although tempted to ignore it, he'd decided to check anyway—more out of morbid curiosity because he'd been sure it was from Magnum than because of anything else.

And that was how, thanks to Thomas Magnum, Katsumoto had suddenly found himself looking down the barrel of a gun.

When he'd heard the passenger door open, he quickly turned, his hand instinctively going to his holster until he'd frozen at the sight of the gun pointed directly at his face.

"Don't move," the man who'd slid into Katsumoto's passenger seat had growled. "Put your hands up."

Katsumoto had been weighing his chances of going for the weapon anyway when a second man had slid into the back seat and the detective had heard the distinctive click of another gun being cocked.

"I'd do what he said."

Unfortunately, it had turned out the two men had been trying to make their getaway from robbing a convenience store around the corner and had decided to take advantage of a car that would have the keys in it. But their plans to just carjack the driver and leave him behind had suddenly changed when the badge clipped to Katsumoto's belt had caught the eye of the man in the passenger seat.

And then, the first guy had demanded his weapon, and Katsumoto had realized with a sigh that there was now way he could realistically pull his gun and take out both of the guys before one of them fired their own weapon.

Honestly, if all that had happened had been the men had cuffed him to the steering wheel of his car and forced him to drive them out of town and then left, he could have dealt with that. Sure, he would have had to deal with either improvising a lock pick or having to call for help and endure whatever humiliation came from his colleagues—and Magnum—knowing what had happened, but at least, in those scenarios, he walked away unscathed other than his pride.

However, the situation had not quite gone so well, and Katsumoto now found himself trapped in the wreckage of his vehicle.

He'd hit his head on the window when the other car had slammed into his, which had caused his vision to explode in a burst of white and then go black. By the time he'd woken up, everything had been eerily quiet.

Both of the men who'd carjacked him were long gone, as was the car at fault for the collision, it seemed. Katsumoto growled. Just his luck to be involved in a hit-and-run on today of all days.

He slammed his hand against the wheel in frustration, and that was when all of the rest of the pain decided to suddenly make itself known. His head was pounding, that much he already knew, but there was a throbbing in his left shoulder that he realized was due to his cuffed hand yanking against the restraints during the buffeting that had occurred during the collision. Then there was the feeling of fire in his chest every time he breathed, and he knew it had to be thanks to cracked ribs.

Closing his eyes, he tried to breathe through the onslaught of pain that seemed to overtake even his attempts to think of how to get himself out of the mess. It felt like every nerve ending was on fire, and he just wanted to fade away back into unconsciousness and not have to worry about it at all.

But he had to figure out a way out. The criminals who'd carjacked him had directed him down an old, deserted road, and he wasn't sure when the next person would happen along. Which meant that he might be spending a long time out here by himself before he _might_ be spotted by a passing motorist. From what he could see through the cracked windshield, the car had come to a stop quite a ways from the road, and there was no telling if anyone passing by would even be able to see his vehicle—or realize someone inside needed help.

He tugged against the handcuffs, trying to see if the metal had weakened in any way due to the crash, but they were still locked securely around his wrist and the steering wheel. And the man in the passenger seat had forced him to surrender the keys as well as his phone, so both of those options were out the window.

Glancing around, he searched for something he could use as a makeshift lockpick, but there was nothing he could see that would serve that purpose. And stretching too far to attempt to see into the back seat set his head spinning, and so he quickly abandoned that idea.

He had to lean back against the headrest and breathe steadily through his nose for a good thirty seconds before the nausea settled and he could continue his attempts to find a way out.

Strangely enough, the world was starting to grow gray around the edges, and he rubbed his eyes as if he could clear away whatever haze was there. He blinked hard and realized he was starting to fade back into unconsciousness. His head just continued to pound and his side continued to pulse with every heartbeat, and he had to admit sleep sounded like a really good idea right then.

But no. He couldn't let himself fall asleep. Not now. He had to get out, had to find help, had to get a report out on the guys who'd carjacked him before they hurt somebody else.

At a lack of any other options, he leaned forward and laid on his horn. The sudden, insistently loud noise caused his headache to flare and dark spots to gather across his vision. He shook his head to clear it but to no avail.

As the throbbing in his head continued to grow and his sight continued to dim, he leaned forward, putting all of his weight on his hand. If he was going to pass out, then he might as well make sure he kept up the blaring of the horn. It was his only hope of rescue at this point.

* * *

"Katsumoto? Hey, can you hear me?" The voice drifted past the darkness, pulling him back to reality. A hand patted his cheek once, then twice, and the voice came again. "Hey, man. Come on; open your eyes."

He knew that voice, Katsumoto frowned as he cracked one eye open to take in the situation. He groaned as he saw Magnum leaning over him. "It's you," he grunted.

"Well, you don't have to sound so excited to see me." Magnum rolled his eyes, but his relieved smile belied the sarcasm in his tone.

Katsumoto swallowed and opened his eyes wider to glance around him. "How'd you find me?" he asked slowly.

"Well, see, you never showed up to help us search the car—which I promise we were careful doing and didn't leave any fingerprints," Magnum explained. "And when you wouldn't answer our calls, Higgins got worried and decided to ping your phone."

"I think you mean _you _got worried and asked me to ping the detective's phone," a British voice chimed in. Higgins stepped into Katsumoto's line of sight and gave him a reassuring smile. "And it seems it's a good thing we did."

He couldn't really argue with that. "And you found the wreck," he said. His head was still pounding, making it hard to think straight, but it really wasn't that hard of a conclusion to make. Swallowing, he put his hand to the ground to push to his feet, but he'd forgotten about his left arm having been cuffed to the wheel, and white-hot fire shot through his bicep and shoulder when he tried to put weight on it. Katsumoto felt it collapse at the attempt, and he bit down on the involuntary cry of pain.

"Hey, stay still," Magnum chided, putting a hand on Katsumoto's chest. "Ambulance will be here any minute. Don't try to get up."

Katsumoto huffed a sigh and shut his eyes against the way _everything_ hurt, even as he heard the wailing of a siren from somewhere in the distance. He was not looking forward to the paperwork he was going to have to fill out for everything that had gone down that day, much less the obligatory hospital stay that was going to put him out of commission for at least a day.

Then a thought suddenly occurred to him, and he squinted to look back at Magnum. "I hope you had the sense _not _to destroy that crime scene," he grumbled. "I still need to check it out, and I don't want to have to deal with eliminating your prints from the real evidence."

Magnum had the nerve to look offended. "I will have you know I am _always _careful at crime scenes."

That would be the day. "Right." Katsumoto rolled his eyes. "You're something at crime scenes, all right, but _careful _is not it."

The small exclamation of indignance from the other man was almost enough to make Katsumoto laugh. "What? I save your life by picking your handcuffs—"

Higgins cleared her throat.

"Okay, well, Higgy might've picked the lock, but I pulled you out! And this is the thanks I get?"

Katsumoto lifted an eyebrow. "This is your fault in the first place. You do realize that?"

* * *

_Fin._


End file.
